


A Simple Touch

by fits_in_frames



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-01-19
Updated: 2004-01-19
Packaged: 2018-01-21 11:35:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1549142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fits_in_frames/pseuds/fits_in_frames
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I've watched you for a long time, my dear Samwise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Simple Touch

_"I love you."_

_I can't believe I just said that. Oh, Sam, I can't believe I just poured my heart out to you. This is all happening so fast! Sam? Sam? Where are you going? Don't go! I can't stand on my own! Why does my voice not work? Wait! Sam! SAM! Come back! I only wanted to tell you the truth. I didn't mean to hurt you. Sam? Oh Sam..._

***

I've watched you for a long time, my dear Samwise.

When I met you, you shyly shook my hand, barely stepping out from your father's shadow, almost afraid of me and Bilbo. You refused to look either of us in the eye for more than a split second.

I knew you'd be an excellent worker, and, more importantly, a good friend. You were strong and young. Your curls shone in the sunlight. Our eyes met for a brief moment, and yours simply burrowed into mine. Your mouth was tight, quivering slightly. You were nervous. We got to know each other a bit for a week; we even went fishing for a day and had a splendid time. I knew you were something special.

But it was when you began work in the garden that the true nature of my attraction to you was revealed.

I was sitting in my bedroom, gazing out the window like I normally did—even before I met your father. Your hair glinted in the light and shined briefly in my eye. So I turned my head and saw you. Oh Sam.

You were facing me, Sam, but you weren't looking at me. I could see the curve of your face, twisted in resentment. My dear Samwise, I wished you didn't have to be so upset. I asked Bilbo why you were so angry. He didn't know. I found your father and asked him. He didn't know. So I called you in the house and asked you.

You wouldn't tell me.

"'Tis not my place, sir, to unload my problems." You seemed afraid to touch anything in the tunnel of Bag End.

"Sam, there's no need to be formal here. Come, is this not the hobbit I spent an entire day smoking and laughing with last week?" I tried to smile at you but you refused to look at me.

"Mr. Frodo, I really don't want to talk about it." You weren't going to budge.

"Fine, Sam. But I really want to help."

"I understand, Mr. Frodo. You just want to make sure I do a good job, sir. That's what my Gaffer says."

I placed my hand on your arm. My life changed at that moment. When I touched you this time it felt different. It wasn't like when we first shook hands, nor like when you'd almost fell in the water if I hadn't caught you and pulled you back gently by your shoulder. My hand started shaking, Sam. It started shaking up my arm, then into my chest. It was like I got a sudden chill. "Sam. I'm making sure you're all right. Your job is secondary to this conversation."

You looked at me, Sam. I think it was the first time you'd looked me in the eye for more than a second or two. Your face was stern. "Well, I'm fine, Mr. Frodo. Can I please go back to work now?"

I saw this was pointless. You weren't going to tell me anything. "Very well, Samwise."

You left, and I felt empty.

It might seem silly, but that brief memory of touching you sent me into despair. Nothing I did could ease it. I locked myself in my room, refused to come out, even for meals. Bilbo tried to help, but I wouldn't let him past my door. I was irrational, Sam. I didn't eat for three days. _You_ made me not eat for three days. Ironic, isn't it?

The only comfort I had was watching you out my window. The emptiness was almost gone then. But when you weren't there, I longed for your touch, Sam. I longed for your voice, your face, even a single golden curl. You had stolen my heart. It was painful and beautiful all at once. It was something I'd never felt before. I didn't know what it was called, Sam. I didn't know I was in love.

On the third day, I suppose Bilbo told you something wasn't right with me. You knocked on my door.

"Mr. Frodo?"

I jumped, Sam. I jumped almost six inches off my bed. I was wrapped in my coverlet and almost didn't get up. I wasn't sure if I was imagining things.

"Mr. Frodo..."

I knew I wasn't imagining that, Sam. That was your voice. Your beautiful voice calling me from the other side of the door. I stood up and walked to the door. I cracked it open. Your eye peeked around, but quickly darted away.

"Beggin' your pardon, sir..."

"I'm decent, Sam, you can come in." I hadn't spoken for three days. My throat was dry. I opened the door and sat back down on my bed, still wrapped in the coverlet.

You came in and shut the door halfway, quietly, then got on your knees by my bed and took my hand, Sam. You took my hand in both of yours. They were calloused, almost brown from sun and grime. A gentlehobbit like myself should have been appalled. But I wasn't, Sam, because you were looking at me. You were almost staring at me. I could feel those hazel eyes on my forehead. I slowly moved my eyes so that they met yours, then lowered them again. You didn't look away.

"Sam, I..."

"Is everything all right, Mr. Frodo? Mr. Bilbo says you haven't been eatin'."

Oh Sam. Your voice brought tears to my eyes. You were worried sick about me.

"If it's something I did, Mr. Frodo..."

"No, no, Sam, it's nothing you did." It wasn't, Sam; it was something _I_ did.

"Mr. Frodo, I was in a tiff with my sister the other day. I wasn't bein' resentful. I was just angry, sir. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I made you do all this."

My head snapped up. "Sam. If you think that conversation made me do this then you're mad." I didn't mean for that tone to come out, Sam. But I know I sounded angry.

You let go and stood up. "I'm sorry, Mr. Frodo. Is there anything I can do?"

I couldn't bare to look at you. I felt tears in my eyes about to spill out. "You could hold my hand again, Sam."

"With all due respect, sir, I was out of line to do tha' in the first place." You weren't looking at me anymore. Your eyes were fixed on Bilbo, standing in the doorway.

"Is everything all right, lads?"

"Yes, Mr. Bilbo, everything is fine." You were afraid, Sam. Afraid that if Bilbo found out you were holding my hand he might think less of you. I blushed. Bilbo looked at each of us and left. You returned to your knees. Your hands took mine again. "How's tha', Mr. Frodo?"

"That's wonderful, Sam." I closed my eyes, lifted my head.

"Mr. Frodo, are you sure it's not me?"

Well, Samwise, that was a loaded question. Of course _I_ knew it was you, but I didn't think you could handle knowing that I had this longing for you, that at that moment I didn't want you to let go of my hand. I didn't want to lie to you, Sam. Still, I'd only known you for a short time and I didn't want our friendship— _friend_ ship—to suffer because I was too hasty to reveal an infatuation for you. So I had to lie. "No, Sam, it's not you."

"Well, then, what is it?"

Ah, the follow-up question. I hadn't anticipated that, Samwise. I thought up something quick. "I've just been thinking about my parents for a few days. I miss them, Sam." Yes, that sounded good—though I hadn't thought about my parents at great length since before I went to stay with Merry Brandybuck.

"Oh." Your grasp on my hand tightened. "Will you be all right, Mr. Frodo?"

"Yes, yes Sam, I'll be fine." My stomach growled loudly. I blushed.

You smiled at me, the first time I think I ever saw you smile. "Well, when hobbit hasn't eaten in three days, there's only one remedy for it."

"What's that, Sam?"

"You'll see, Mr. Frodo." You got up and walked out.

When I made it to the kitchen an hour later, I found you cooking. There was loaf of bread and a pot of soup on the table, along with several things on the fire. "Sam? You made all this?"

You turned around and blushed deeply. "Yes, Mr. Frodo, all except the bread. My Gaffer says it's good to know how to cook; you can take care of yourself tha' way."

I sat down. You watched me in awe, Sam. I was being a proper-hobbit and searching for something besides my hands to eat with. I couldn't find a spoon anywhere.

"Mr. Bilbo's gotten rid of all the spoons. You know how he does silly things like that. He's sent my Gaffer to get new ones. He'll be back in a few hours."

"So I have to wait to eat, is that what you're saying, Sam? All this food in front of me and I can't eat it?!?" Hunger had made me abnormally impatient.

You tilted your head and smiled. "Now, Mr. Frodo, you're not at a fancy banquet, are you? Go on, the pot should be cool by now. I made sure it was small enough. I won't mind."

Sam, you showed me kindness that day that I could not believe. You thought I was mad at you, I thought you were mad at me, and yet you showed me absolute kindness. My hands and face were covered in jam and grease and crumbs, but you didn't care. You cooked until I hollered at you to stop, I couldn't possibly eat anymore! I laughed and you laughed and we both ate the last of the bread together. I felt whole that day, Sam. You made me feel whole.

***

Now, we're trekking across the Shire. I have a golden trinket in my pocket and a golden hobbit by my side. We've become good friends, Sam. I've been glad I didn't tell you what I really felt that day. I fear it would have ruined our relationship.

But I'd forgotten how much I really loved you, Sam. By the time I made you dance with Rosie, I'd forgotten that I once locked myself in my room for three days because of you. I'd forgotten the longing, Sam.

When Gandalf told you to come along, my heart nearly jumped out of my chest. I was delighted you were coming, and yet I was afraid of what I might do. I still watched you from afar, at least daily, and we socialized perhaps a bit more than we should have, but now I see you every waking hour. My love for you has multiplied.

We're camped out on a bluff lined with trees. I was taking a nap in one of them just a moment ago, but the smell of something cooking has awoken me. Something familiar.

"Mr. Frodo? Did I wake you, sir?"

I shake my head quickly. "No, no, Sam, you didn't wake me." I hop down and put my jacket on. I nod at the pot over the fire you have going. "That did."

"D'you recognize it, Mr. Frodo, the smell?"

I do, Sam, but it escapes me... Whatever could it—oh my, it's—"It's the same soup you made for me all those years ago, Sam." Oh Sam. I can feel something go pulsing through my body. It doesn't feel welcome. It's the longing.

"Yes, Mr. Frodo, it is." You smile. "I thought I'd make it, for old time's sake."

Sam, you only want to be kind, but, save me, stomach is turning to jelly. I don't know if I'll be able to eat at all, Sam. My head is spinning. My legs are giving out. I'm falling, Sam. You catch me before I hit the ground.

"Mr. Frodo?"

You're holding me in your arms, Sam. You're cradling me like a child. My jaw doesn't work.

"Mr. Frodo! Frodo!" You're crying, Sam.

I shake my head, come out of the trance, sit up. My legs still feel weak, but I'm not dizzy anymore. "I'm fine, Sam."

You breathe a sigh of relief. "Oh, thank goodness. I said I wouldn't let anything happen to you, sir. I think that qualified as an 'anything'." You smile through your tears, Sam.

I smile back. "I'm all right, Sam. It's just that was a rough couple of days for me, when you first made me that soup. It all came back to me in an instant."

"I see, sir." You still look concerned as you move back towards the fire.

"Sam, I..."

"Yes, Mr. Frodo?"

I take a deep breath. This is not something I want to do, but I have to. I feel guilty, Sam.

"Frodo?" You've come back; you're kneeling by me and holding my hand in both of yours.

"There's something you need to know, Sam."

You have no problem looking me in the eye now. Your eyes soften when they meet mine. Oh Sam.

"Do you remember what I told you when you asked why I was so upset, Sam?"

You nod solemnly. "Your parents, sir. I hope me sayin' tha' doesn't set you off again."

"No, no, Sam, it's all right. They've been dead for years." For some reason I try to laugh but nothing comes out. I continue. "I must admit something to you, Sam. I was lying."

You look appalled, Sam. You looked like you've been betrayed, and rightfully so.

I take your hands up in both of mine. "Oh Sam! I'm so sorry Sam! I didn't mean to lie, it's just I was afraid, Sam! I was afraid of what you might say if I told you the truth."

You pull your hands away, stand up, and turn from me, disgusted. "I though' I could trust you, Mr. Frodo. I though' you'd never do that. I was wrong."

I'm crying, Sam. I can't stand up. I can only reach for you.

"Well, then, what _was_ wrong that day, _sir_?" The emphasis on that last word makes me cringe. It makes it sound like you're just a simple servant—which couldn't be farther from the truth, Sam.

"I—I was longing, Sam. Longing for someone. "

You've returned to your knees. You don't seem angry. "Who, Mr. Frodo?"

I'm not sure I'm quite ready to tell you, Sam. "Someone who is now very close to me. Someone I hadn't known long then. I thought it was just a silly infatuation, but I've learned it was much more."

You're not satisfied. "Yes, sir, but who is it? Is it a lass I know? One of the girls from Hobbiton? Or another girl. Rosie, perhaps?" That last suggestion is treated with hesitation.

"No, Sam, it's not a girl from Hobbiton. But you do know this person. You know them very well." I hope this is working.

I can see your mind going through the list of lasses you know. "The only one I can think of that meets tha' description is Rosie, sir, and—with all due respect—I hope to high heavens it's not her."

I smile at you, my dear Sam. "No, Sam, she's yours. I wouldn't dream of stealing her from you. But—" for this I turn my head shyly downward and whisper "—whoever said it was a lass?"

You're taken aback. You try not to seem shocked, but I see through you, Sam. "Mr. Frodo, I had no idea!"

I say it again to get more comfortable with it. "Yes, Sam. It's not a lass."

You look confident when you say, "It must Mr. Merry, then. You'd been away from him for a while at that point, Mr. Frodo. It'd be understandable."

"No, Sam. _You_ know him well. _Very_ well."

After a moment, your brow relaxes. You know. "No, Mr. Frodo, it can't be." You pull your hands away from me.

"Yes, Sam, it can."

"No, that's not possible. I'm your _gardener_ , Mr. Frodo."

My eyes are lowered. I can't look at you. "You stole my heart, Samwise Gamgee. I didn't even know what it was called when it happened. When I touched you one time, I felt empty when I let go. I couldn't stand it, Sam."

You're still kneeling, Sam. You haven't left me. "Anything else you want to tell me?" Your voice is distant: you're disgusted by me.

Battling back salty tears, I croak out, "Yes."

"Well, then, out with it." You're exasperated, Sam.

"I love you."

I can't believe I just said that. Oh Sam. I can't believe I just poured my heart out to you. This is all happening so fast. Sam? Sam? Where are you going? Don't go! I can't stand on my own! Why does my voice not work? Wait! Sam! SAM! Come back! I only wanted to tell you the truth. I didn't mean to hurt you. Sam? Oh Sam...

***

When I awake again, it is twilight. I see you, standing on the edge of the bluff. You're smoking with your arms folded. My legs seem to work, as I'm already walking towards you. You don't turn to see me, but you know I'm there. "'Ello, Mr. Frodo. Glad to see you're awake. Your soup's cold by now." You're not really paying attention to me, Sam. I come to stand next to you.

You turn and walk away.

I almost follow you, but something tells me not to. I stand looking out over the bluff. The stars are shining through the misty blue sky. Or perhaps the mist is simply my tears. I feel them slide down my cheeks. Oh Sam. I wrap myself in my own arms and sit down, hunched over. Why did I ever tell you? Why was I so foolish? Now you think I've been kind to you all these years just because I was in love with you, which is entirely not true. I wanted to be your friend, Sam. I wanted to share the joy of life with you. I didn't want to be with you; I knew that was impossible. You said yourself: you're my _gardener_. Still, I'm crying, Sam.

I can feel your presence towering over me. "Is there anything I can do, Mr. Frodo?"

I don't turn to face you. I'm afraid of what I might say, but I speak anyway. "Just—touch me, Sam."

"Why? If you don't mind me askin'." You're suspicious. You think I have more than a simple touch on my mind.

"Just because, Sam. Just because."

My authority over you has asserted itself. You kneel down and reluctantly put your arm around my shoulders.

My head is down. I'm ashamed. My tears are still falling. I barely whisper at you: "I'm sorry."

"It's all right, Mr. Frodo." You don't sound like you believe that.

I turn to you, put my head into your chest and weep. You're rubbing my back in a circle, like I was a baby. Oh Sam. I'm sobbing.

"Sometimes people do strange things when they're in love." Your voice is distant. You're not looking at me. You're not even really talking to me, Sam. "They even deny themselves the truth."

I lift my head and look at you.

You don't say anything, Sam. You just look into my eyes. I can't stand what I see. It's not the same rage as before. It's pain. Tears. I've hurt you, Sam. I'll never be able to forgive myself. I close my eyes so I don't have to look anymore.

But I feel you moving closer to me. I feel your hand on my face. I feel your breath on my nose. I feel your—

Oh Sam. You're kissing me.


End file.
